


Soft curves and sharp edges

by Tovarich



Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: GOC2020, Good Omens Celebration 2020, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23976418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tovarich/pseuds/Tovarich
Summary: Not for the first time, it hit her how perfectly they contrasted each other; Aziraphale was all soft curves while Crowley was all sharp edges, one was constantly clad in old-fashioned cream clothes while the other always wore modern black outfits, when Aziraphale exuberantly showed his love, Crowley's expression of affection tended to be more subdued, Aziraphale was a nervous but fierce guardian angel while Crowley was a silent hand on a shoulder, wordlessly bringing comfort. They were different, one might say they were polar opposites. But they both deeply cared, they were both kind and welcoming in their own ways.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Celebration 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727137
Kudos: 42
Collections: Good Omens Celebration





	Soft curves and sharp edges

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt for the Good Omens Celebration was "contrast". I wrote this instead of sleeping and haven't re-read it, but I hope it's not too bad and you'll enjoy reading it!

Emma entered the bookshop in SoHo where she often went to work. It was raining heavily that day and her clothes stuck to her skin in an uncomfortable way. The difference of temperature made her shiver. It was always pleasantly warm in the shop, creating a welcoming atmosphere. The owner, Aziraphale, came to her with a towel for her hair. He was always kind to her. Or at least he had been nice since it became clear that she didn't want to buy any book. It was weird, why a bookshop owner would wish to make any possible customer leave empty-handed as soon as possible, but this was one of the strange things about this man that she simply accepted.

She went to sit at a little table that was always free for her to work at. It was as if Aziraphale made sure there always was a place for her. But given how few customers visited the shop, it wasn't so surprising. She took her laptop out of her backpack and started working on one of her assignments that was due for next week. She looked up when she heard footsteps to see Aziraphale walking toward her with a steaming mug of hot cocoa in one hand and a plate with a slice of chocolate cake in the other.

"Do you need anything else, dear girl?" he asked with his gentle smile.

She cast him a grateful smile as she replied, "No, thank you Mr. Fell. That's so very kind of you, chocolate cake is my favourite!"

He always brought her hot cocoa or tea and pastries when she came. At first, she had tried to pay him for the food, but he always refused, saying it was his pleasure to share his favourite desserts with someone who appreciated them. That was another reason why she kept coming here; it felt a bit like coming home. She was far from her family and she didn't have a lot of friends in London, but Aziraphale always welcomed her like she was family.

Another man was sitting on an old armchair in a corner of the shop, looking at something on his phone. He was always here, a silent reassuring presence. Most people probably would describe Crowley as reassuring, and to be honest at first, she had been intimidated by him. Where Aziraphale was all softness and welcoming warmth, Crowley was sharp and seemed so distant. He was always clad in black from head to toe with his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses, even inside. He contrasted starkly not only with Aziraphale but with the place itself. And yet, he didn't seem out of place in the old-fashioned shop, among piles of old books. She wasn't sure what his relationship with the owner was, but from her observations, they must have been extremely close and it was clear that they had known each other for a very long time. She never asked, though, it felt like something too personal to ask. They didn't talk much when she was around, but she knew they didn't need words to communicate.

At first, Emma had been almost scared of Crowley, until one day, she got frustrated with her work. She couldn't find the information she needed anywhere and was getting a bit desperate. She needed to finish her research paper as it was due for the next day and she was getting late, and she really needed to get a good grade on this if she didn't want to fail her class. Crowley had walked toward her, and handed her a thick, dusty book.

"There," he said, "you should find what you need in this, and if you don't you can always look for some other book."

She had looked at him as if he had handed her the moon on a silver plate, eyes wide and mouth agape before she could find her voice again to thank him properly. He had replied with a weird sound that resembled 'ngk' and walked away. Thinking about it, she wondered how he could have known what she was looking for, and concluded that he had likely heard her speak to Aziraphale about it when she first came in. It was still slightly odd, but she had come to terms with the fact that these two were quite peculiar people. It was just another weird thing about them that she simply accepted without questioning it.

From that day, Emma sometimes talked to Crowley. The man was an unending well of knowledge and always answered her questions. He never really showed it - she had a feeling that Crowley wasn't one to openly show emotions a lot - but she had a feeling he enjoyed answering questions. Not as a way to show how much he knew about pretty much anything in the universe, but simply because he liked sharing his knowledge in the same way Aziraphale liked sharing pastries. Sometimes Aziraphale joined the conversation and they started talking about historical events in detail as if they had been there themselves.

That day, with the rain tapping a steady rhythm on the windows of the bookshop, Emma was staring at the screen of her computer. She had tried working, but questions always plagued her mind, keeping her from focusing on her task. She had drunk half of her cocoa and ate a few bites of cake, but she couldn't even concentrate on how they tasted. It felt as if her head was full of a thick fog, making it hard to distinguish anything around her.

A warm hand gently landed on her shoulder and Aziraphale soft voice reached her ears. She couldn't make out the words, but it was heavy with concern. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the weird sensation of cotton filling her skull. When she looked up at the blond man, meeting his blue eyes, a wave of guilt flooded her. She felt bad for making such a kind man worry about her, especially since what preoccupied her wasn't so important, objectively.

"I'm sorry to bother you, my dear," he hesitantly said, "but I couldn't help noticing that you've been staring at your screen without writing anything for a very long time." He frowned a bit, biting his lower lip. "Is there anything I can do to help you? It would be my pleasure, I assure you. So don't hesitate of you need anything." He kept wringing his hands the whole time, as if he had been the one at fault, when really, it was only Emma being ridiculous and letting her insignificant problems get the better of herself.

"I… It's nothing, really. Nothing important anyway." She replied with a forced smile.

Aziraphale turned his head toward Crowley in hopes that the other man would be of assistance, but he only received a raised eyebrow.

"It's alright if you don't want to talk about it, really, but I would gladly try to help you any way I can. If what is on your mind has been keeping you from working for such a long time, it must be important to you."

Of course, Aziraphale was right, it was important to her. But in the grand scheme of things, it was a ridiculously insignificant issue, not even worth mentioning. It definitely wasn't worth getting that sweet man so worried.

"It's just… Family issues, I guess. Nothing bad, I'm just making myself worked up for nothing." She replied with a mirthless laugh.

At that moment, Crowley got up from his armchair and joined them. "Angel," he started, putting a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder. He leaned in and whispered something Emma couldn't hear. Aziraphale looked at Crowley for a few seconds before turning his head toward Emma and then back to Crowley. He nodded and went to the backroom.

Emma sighed when Aziraphale left. As much as she liked knowing she could talk to him if she ever was in trouble, she didn't want to worry him for nothing. She probably failed, since he still looked so concerned when he left, but she had a feeling that talking to him would have made things worse. He reminded Emma of her mother, always getting too worried for things that didn't deserve it.

Crowley remained silent but didn't leave, he simply stood there with his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans. Emma didn't speak either, she went back to blankly staring at her laptop screen, internally debating whether she should open up to Crowley or not. She wasn't sure why she considered telling him what bother her when she was so adamant to keep her mouth shut with Aziraphale. It was probably because she wasn't concerned about him over-reacting. When she looked up, Crowley had taken his sunglasses off and was looking at her with his serpentine eyes. Just another weird thing about him, then.

She looked away before saying, "I'm going home for the holidays in a few weeks, and my girlfriend will be there. We've been together since we were in high school and I love her a lot. But…"

"But?" Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow.

"But I'm not sure if I'm happy with her anymore. It's not because of her, she's amazing and she's always encouraged me for everything I wanted to do. It's just… I'm not sure if I want to be in a relationship anymore. Not just with her, but in general." This was ridiculous, she was ridiculous. Surely, Crowley would think she was wasting his time with her ridiculous issue.

"You've been thinking about this for a long time, haven't you? It's not just a sudden idea, you've been pondering about this for weeks, right?"

When Emma nodded, he continued, "And you keep coming to the conclusion that you should leave her?"

"Yes. But I don't want to lose her, I still want her, need her in my life. Just, not as my girlfriend. And I'm scared. I'm scared that I will regret it, that I'll wish I had just shut my mouth and stayed with her." She took her face in her hand and groaned in frustration. It felt good though, talking about it to some else. To someone who didn't blame her for overthinking everything or tell her she should just listen to her heart, to someone who didn't get too emotionally involved in her questioning. She needed someone like Crowley who just tried to understand her, who stayed slightly distant but not uncaring.

"If you just shut your mouth, it'll only make things worse. One day it will be too much, and you'll burst. Might as well talk to that girlfriend of yours next time you see her, or you might regret it later when things get bad between the two of you. Because trust me, in a relationship the more things you keep to yourself, the worst it gets in the end."

And she had a feeling she really could trust him on this. She could see in his unprotected eyes that he knew what he was talking about.

She nodded again. "Thank you, Crowley. Thank you for listening to me." This time her smile was sincere. She felt lighter now, as if a weight had been lifted from her heart and she was able to breathe freely again.

Crowley replied with a sound that was distinctly 'ngk' before putting his sunglasses back on, and went to join Aziraphale in the backroom. They exited it together and Emma watched them as they stood side by side, talking to each other. Not for the first time, it hit her how perfectly they contrasted each other; Aziraphale was all soft curves while Crowley was all sharp edges, one was constantly clad in old-fashioned cream clothes while the other always wore modern black outfits, when Aziraphale exuberantly showed his love, Crowley's expression of affection tended to be more subdued, Aziraphale was a nervous but fierce guardian angel while Crowley was a silent hand on a shoulder, wordlessly bringing comfort. They were different, one might say they were polar opposites. But they both deeply cared, they were both kind and welcoming in their own ways. And in that moment, Emma knew deep inside her heart, that they would always be by her side whenever she needed them.


End file.
